Slip Of The Tongue
by maya295
Summary: Time setting: season 7. House and Cuddy are in a relationship. One night, to please her, House invites Cuddy in a fancy restaurant... This story is a one-shot.


_Hi everyone!_

_So, my nagging friend, oc7ober, struck again! This time, her nagging obsession was to have me write something that, if you asked me, I personally consider a bit sappy which is why I resisted as long as I could before yielding, but in the end, I'm just weak like that and couldn't say no._

_Her prompt consisted in one sole demand and it was: she wanted House to declare his undying love to Cuddy, with **one very specific sentence** (that I won't reveal here so that you have the surprise…)_

_Since, as I said, the sentence isn't really one I'd have used spontaneously in one of my stories, I tried to abide by her request, by **my way**…_

_And here's the result! I hope you'll enjoy it._

_Thanks to Iane_Casey, who got a sneak peek at this story in its early stage and whose enthusiasm encouraged me to finish it quickly._

_This one-shot is obviously dedicated to Zosia, the nagging minx._

_Special mention to Véro too, who does a wonderful but very hard job that life, sometimes, sadly doesn't reward as it should. I hope this one-shot will make you smile…_

* * *

><p><strong>** SLIP OF THE TONGUE **<strong>

"How do I look?"

In all honesty, she could have worn a plastic bag or shredded clothes she still would have looked like a million fuckable dollars to him. But she didn't need to know _that_. His first instinct was to tease her, just to enjoy seeing her disappointed pout that she'd have tried to hide behind an exasperated sigh. Yet, at the same time, he couldn't negate the delightful shivers that ran down his spine just at the sight of her, nor could he ignore the dizziness in his head when he saw her walk towards him in those dangerously high heels that accentuated the curve in the small of her back, arching her sensually forward. He couldn't pretend he hadn't instantly registered the amazing black dress, so simple and yet so incredibly sexy the second she'd appeared at the end of the hallway or the luscious sway of her hips as she kept approaching; and the delicate scent that emanated from her nape when she nonchalantly turned around, gathering her raven curls up, asking him without words to help her zip her dress.

House seized the zipper and slowly made it slide along her spine, enjoying the way she ever so slightly leaned back against his chest.

"You look stunning." he answered honestly.

She turned around again to face him and sent him a devastating, mischievous smile.

"Do I?" she purred, parting her lips in an enticing way, and coming inches away from his face.

"We're gonna be late." He said, stepping back, though reluctantly.

"No, we're not. It's barely 7.30." She answered surprised, glancing at her watch.

"Yeah, but if you keep going on like this, God only knows how and _when_ it'll end, and then we're gonna be late for sure." he added smirking.

"Faiiine!" she puffed, rolling her eyes and brushing past him to grab her coat on her way out.

He watched her leave the house and climb down the stairs to the street where he'd parked his car.

"No need to sway that gigantic tush of yours as if it were the Olympic giant slalom, you know!" he called after her, chuckling, "I'm not changing my mind."

He took a deep breath and mechanically patted the inner pocket of his jacket. No, indeed, there was no way he was going to change his mind…

They'd been in a relationship for two months and it felt to him as if his life had taken an entirely new meaning since then. Not that he'd changed, God forbid, but having her was like suddenly righting every wrong in that miserable existence of his. Twenty years of common history, just as much of longing; twenty years spent squabbling and sexually healing each other but still, he'd only been absolutely sure of it the moment he'd hold her in his arms. That was one thing to want her, one thing to spend every second of his lonely time convincing himself that she would be the one, but he couldn't actually know that with _certainty_. And then, she'd come to him, saved him, loved him and everything had changed. Jesus, that woman was a challenge, a pain in the ass and more but she was filling every tiniest empty space there ever was in his heart. She'd come to him and she'd made herself unavoidable, unforgettable, _indispensable_ just with one kiss. One look. One smile…

Sex with her was something so completely mind-blowing, even in his wildest fantasies he hadn't been able to picture it quite as it was. She was liberated, wild, giving and tender. And damn, she was not shy! God bless yoga, she was also fucking bendy… For a man like him, so forcefully driven by his sexual needs, she was the exact _yin_ to his _yang_. But it was not just basely physical. That was something he'd given up on trying to pretend. Her skin was soft like the most precious silk. He loved to rest the palm of his hand on her and trace long winding caresses on all the valleys and hollows of her perfect body. The sound of her moans was like the sound of music to him: soothing. As tiny as she was, she occupied all the space under his sheets and he gladly let her. After one night, he'd already forgotten how it felt not to have her curled up alongside him. The warmth that radiated from her naked body after they made love was the most comforting sensation he'd experienced in a long time. It relaxed the soreness in his tensed muscles.

She agreed to play stupid boyish video games with him, and she was actually not bad at it! Better even, she wasn't against watching a porn movie with him once in a while, and he just loved the way she couldn't help herself making comments about how incredibly improbable the plot was, or the way she imperceptibly snuggled up closer to him during the sex scenes. Her tastes in cuisine were awful and she ate food he wouldn't even have considered giving to Steve McQueen, the rat, if it was still alive, but she made him want to cook just to please her. He loved to watch her eat. He loved the gracious movement of her throat when she swallowed.

She was incredibly high-maintenance, exhausting and upsetting at times and she lived by some crazy principles and rules he didn't even comprehend, over which she'd obsess for no reason, but she was among the most upright persons he'd met in his life, honest, generous and empathic. When she talked, he listened. He even _wanted_ to! She was the only woman whose opinion truly mattered to him. He respected her wit and her strong-willed stubbornness. When she said 'no' to him, and even though it positively drove him crazy, he understood her reasons. Her tantrums could freeze someone dead in their tracks, the level of her demands looked totally irrational to him most of the time, but he wanted to abide by every one of them just for the delightful, irreplaceable pleasure of seeing that incredible victorious beam illuminate her features.

He loved to tease her. He loved to challenge her. He loved that she challenged him too, like no one else could. And above all, he loved her sense of humor. Ahh, the sound of her laugh… Making her laugh had become his new goal in life. It'd been so long since he hadn't made a woman laugh. And the sensation was so fulfilling…

He'd suffered for her, suffered _because __of_ her. He'd waited years and years to even dare admit to himself that he wanted her. He'd struggled against evidence; postponed the moment where he would jump over the cliff, take the bet and finally risk being happy. Meanwhile, he'd watched her love other men. He'd watched them touched her and come close to her, enduring the unbearable feeling of seeing her belong to someone else, or at least _think_ that she was. And although he knew it was wrong in every possible way, sometimes he wanted to knock those men down, wipe them off the face of the earth to send them away from her. But he'd clenched his jaws, stepped back and waited in silence; until she'd fallen in _his_ arms and the entire world started to scream it was exactly where she belonged this whole time and that there would be no way he'd allow that to be any different.

For her, he'd become conciliatory, quiet and less pushy. For her, he was ready to reconsider his priorities if that was what it had to cost him to keep her. For her, he was even willing to spend time with her child, take care of her and create whatever semblance of a bond she'd want them to create. _For __her_. Because nobody but her was as immense as she was in his life, nobody meant so much to him or could ever make him feel the slightest of emotions the way he was now feeling them.

She was the air he breathed, the blood in his veins, the electric impulses in his brain. She made him alive. No, she gave him _a__reason_ to be alive. He, who'd never dared to believe in the significance of life all that much, even less that of commitment, had found himself looking at her sleep in the morning and then, effortlessly, just without even struggling for it, calm would pervade him. Pain would become a little less noticeable. His heart would slow down and a smile of bliss would form at the corner of his mouth, almost unconsciously…

...

Getting a reservation at '_Elements_' had not been a piece of cake. That restaurant was the new black in Princeton and consequently everybody wanted to go there. When he first called to book a table, he'd been gently but firmly turned down by the manager, _maître __d__'__hôtel_ was actually more accurate for that kind of place, who explained to him that, unless he'd made his reservation the previous month, the next opening he could offer in his schedule would be in two weeks. Sure! Like House would ever take 'no' for an answer! Bless the cooking class Wilson had once dragged him to: thanks to the people he'd met there, he was able to give a few calls and magically, on his second try, they were able to find a table for him.

He knew she would love that place. He'd heard her mention it a few times to some rich donors on days when he was eavesdropping in the clinic and spying on her every move, like he was used to doing. He'd heard her say she would love to have a chance to go there but never actually had because of her awfully busy calendar. He'd smiled when, hastily going back in his office, he'd checked the name on the Internet. That was exactly the kind of places she surely would picture herself in: Zen and hype, cool modern vibes in every one of its conscientiously Feng Shui-ed corner, it was the kind of places where House imagined people would whisper and barely dare to chink their glasses over their half-empty plates, arrogantly decorated with colorful, trendy food no decent grocery he knew was selling anywhere for real.

But she would love it. They served vegetarian meals, with sophisticated names, in delicate porcelain crockery. Elegant, extremely distinguished waiters would bring them to her in a quiet, private corner where they would have dressed their table, and she would enjoy the illusion of feeling alone and unique in a crowded place where two bites of horseradish could have bought ten vaccines for her free clinic. But she didn't need to know that. He didn't want her to anyway. Tonight was a special night and all he wanted to remember was the smile on her face as she walked toward the entrance.

"How did you do to get a reservation in that place?" She asked mesmerized.

"Something unbelievable that involves picking up a phone and asking to book a table for two. Though I hear a lot of people also do that, so I can't really pretend it's _that_ incredible." He teased her.

She turned her head in his direction and smiled.

"Did you plan that a long time ago?" she inquired with a mischievous glitter in her beautiful light-grey eyes.

"Yesterday." He told her; which was the truth.

"Duh. No way, you called yesterday to get a table in that place!" she exclaimed.

"I did!" He protested. "I have my ways, woman. What do you think?"

She shook her head and giggled as they arrived at the front door.

The perfect gentleman, House pushed it open and took the first step inside before stepping aside to let her enter. The maître d'hôtel was there in no time, asking for a name, while two perfectly efficient men took care of their coats for them.

"House. Table for two." House said, sticking out his chest with pride.

"Absolutely sir!" The maitre d'hôtel answered, checking inside his book. "Reservation for 8 o'clock?"

"Yes."

"Certainly. If you want to follow me. This way." The maître d'hôtel spread his arm to the side and gestured them to a direction on the left. "Madam." He added ceremoniously.

Cuddy started walking in his footsteps and House followed after them. It was impossible to ignore the way almost every man in the room peered at her, trying to be as discreet as possible so that their wives wouldn't notice, as they passed by several tables. Never getting his eyes off of her beautiful shoulder blades, subtly uncovered by the back cleavage of her dress, he registered them all and speeded his limping pace to catch up with her. Conspicuously, possessively, he shamelessly wrapped his free arm around her waist, placing his hand in the hollow of the small of her back, where the line of her ass began to draw that perfect curve that drove him crazy. She let him, not in the least bit embarrassed, and even imperceptibly leaned closer to him. There was no word to describe the absolute raw alpha male sensation that this simple walk across the room made him feel. If he could, he probably would have roared.

They arrived at their table and House drew the chair out for her before the maître d'hôtel could do it himself. She smiled and took a seat. He walked round the table and sat in front of her. The maître d'hôtel handed them the menus and silently disappeared, leaving them alone.

Cuddy looked around her, then inspected the cutlery, the crystal glasses, the refined linen; she glanced at the ceiling and studied the contemporary painting hanging on the brick walls, registered the exotic plants that brought a touch of greenery to the modern décor and then she turned her head back to him.

"This is a nice place, don't you think?" She said, unfolding her napkin and putting it on her lap.

That wasn't exactly _his_ definition of nice, but seeing her enjoying it was all he needed to feel as happy as she seemed to be.

"Yes." He answered.

They ate dinner slowly. She'd ordered some weird food that he wholly enjoyed watching her eat, more than he enjoyed his own dishes. He couldn't help glancing at his watch from time to time, getting slightly nervous as the evening went on. But around dessert, just as he'd planned, the first notes of music started resonating in the distance. Cuddy was savoring her fruit salad and she didn't pay attention at first, until the sound unmistakably got closer. Her left hand hung in the air, she turned to the side to try to identify where the music was coming from. Five Mariachis were slowly making their way between the tables, playing that distinctively traditional Mexican music House knew she loved so much.

"Oh my God!" She said, excitement spreading over her features, "They have a band! I didn't know they had musicians playing in that restaurant."

"They don't." House answered her, with a mysterious smile, studying her reaction.

Convincing the maître d'hôtel, who'd played his distant role to the perfection until then – and he would have to thank him for that later – to allow a Mariachi band to come in his restaurant to play music for his woman hadn't been easy. But when House had explained what his plan was, the man hadn't been able to say no to him. Although, the fifty extra bucks he'd slipped in his hands had surely helped too.

Cuddy's mouth slightly dropped open in bewilderment. She stared at House and then looked behind her again. The band was unmistakably getting closer to _their_ table. Realization suddenly hit her and she leaned forward, a panicked look on her face.

"What? How is it possible if they…" She whispered, looking confused. "House? What does that mean?"

She was completely freaking out and it hit him how much he loved her even more for that in that moment. He reached out for her hand across the table and delicately held it inside his.

"I thought you loved Mariachi bands." He said casually, enjoying every second of it.

"I do but… House, they're coming at _our_ table." She said, dismayed.

And indeed, after they crossed the room, the five Mariachis stopped right at their sides and began to play another song, which had a melancholic, kind of romantic vibe to it. Every people in the restaurant had interrupted their dinner to stare at them. Cuddy's cheeks were beautifully flushed in embarrassment. A touching shyness she was so rarely displaying, except when she was being the center of an attention she hadn't previously and willingly called for, was obviously taking hold of her. She hated when she wasn't in control of the situation, and there was no doubt that she wasn't in that precise moment. But she looked so adorably cute. House beamed and studied her face closely, wanting to prolong this moment as long as possible. Cuddy's eyes were going frantically from him to the band and then to the room where the weight of everyone's stares on her was impossible to ignore.

"Are you going to tell me what the hell is happening?"

Finally, deciding that he had teased her long enough, House let go of her hand and gestured to the band to stop playing. The musicians complied and they remained standing there, their instruments in their hands, looking at them with a conniving smile.

"Cuddy…"

She was looking at him but at the same time, it felt as if she wasn't actually _seeing_ him so when he called her name, the sound of his voice seemed to jolt her out of her stupor. She jumped on her chair and locked eyes with him, this time intensely staring into his baby blue eyes. He smiled reassuringly at her.

"What kind of stupid things have you…"

"Shhh!" he said, cutting her off. "This is my turn to talk. You'll have yours later, but right now, just shut up and let me speak."

She bit her lower lip and fell silent.

"Cuddy," he began with a soft voice, "I've known you long enough to know what a pain in the ass you are."

She frowned and opened her mouth to say something but he held his palm up and silenced her with a warning gaze.

"_Yet_," he added, trying to hide his roguish smile, "as it turns out, it seems you're the _only_ pain in the ass I can stand having around me more than one day. Well, there's Wilson too, of course, but he doesn't have your boobs, obviously. Or your ass."

One of the musicians held back a laugh and nodded appreciatively. Cuddy's jaws tightened.

"Did you plan all of this just to enjoy the sick pleasure of humiliating me in public?" she hissed through clenched teeth, glaring at him.

"No. Actually, I have an entirely different plan."

She narrowed her eyes at him and tilted her head to the side to study him, visibly waiting expectantly to hear what he had to say.

"I did the math and thing is… the probability of me finding someone I can stand that would also have your boobs and your ass _and_, would agree to put up with my crap on a regular basis like you do is very slim. So I guess I'm stuck with you!"

Cuddy finally allowed herself to crack up a smile.

"Wow, you're so very romantic." She said mockingly.

"Cuddy…" House's face took on a sudden look of gravity and his voice started to wobble a little, "What I'm saying is that there's no one, _no __one_, I want to be with more than I want to be with you. I'm a misanthropic son of a bitch, but I feel good with you. _You_ make me feel good. You and I have known each other for more than twenty years and despite what I say sometimes, that's the way you've always made me feel. _Always_." Saying this, House reached for his jacket's inner pocket.

That simple move alone had her freeze instantly in front of him. She held her hand up and covered her mouth, staring at him with eyes wide open. House took a small dark blue velvety box out of his pocket and put it on the table in front of him.

"Excuse the cripple for not kneeling down at your feet, but I think you get the spirit here!"

He seized the box and delicately opened it, revealing a stunning cushion cut diamond ring, of the most exquisite taste that he presented to her solemnly.

All the air escaped her lungs in one puff and she stared at him, completely stunned.

"House…" She blew, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Cuddy, you're it. You're the love of my life and…"

Tears started to well up in her eyes.

"I think it'd be really stupid not to do something about it, right? So…," he cleared his throat dramatically and scanned the room, proudly registering the look of jealousy on everyone's face in the restaurant, "Lisa Cuddy… will you marry me?"

She seemed literally petrified in front of him. She was staring alternately at the ring, so beautiful in its box, and then at him. House was smiling a smile she'd never seen on his face before. It was mischievous, elated, assertive and undoubting; it radiated glee, pride and happiness… but as the seconds passed by, it became hard to hide the puzzlement behind it, the uncertainty and then the fear.

"I said I was the one doing all the talking, but in case you didn't notice, I'm done now." He tried to joke. "Logically, and I'm not saying this because you're familiar with the scenario, I'm pretty sure you know it's your turn to speak." The small box he was putting out to her, with the ring in it, suddenly seemed to weigh a ton in his hand. It felt like the weight of his own life that he was holding out for her to take…

"But… you loathe marriage…" She finally said incredulous.

"That's true. But I love _you_. Sometimes, it's good to compromise…" He smiled again, encouragingly.

"You hate compromise." She murmured.

House closed his eyes for a brief moment during which he heard his heart thudding loudly in his ears. He breathed slowly, once, to gather up the courage to look at her again and then opened his eyes.

"Cuddy, whatever your answer is, and I'm beginning to think it's not exactly the one I expect, I need to hear it. You see, people are staring at us here… it's becoming slightly uncomfortable…"

"She didn't hesitate when _**I**_ asked her." A voice beside him suddenly said.

"What?" House shot his head upward, aghast.

That voice…

Among the Mariachi musicians, Lucas was standing, looking down at him with a smug grin. Dread invaded House's body and his blood turned icily cold inside his veins.

"Wh… what are you doing here? What the hell is that?"

He turned his head to Cuddy once more and saw her slowly standing up. She looked at him with sad eyes.

"I'm sorry." She said, as tears rolled down her cheeks.

Lucas took her hand and pulled her next to him.

"No." House protested, his voice shaking. "Don't do this. Don't go. Cuddy…"

"I'm sorry." She repeated.

"You're a loser, House." Lucas spat with disdain. "How could _you_ think that _she_ would ever want to marry a guy like you?"

House looked around him again. There was nobody in the room anymore. The restaurant had disappeared and instead of it, he found himself seated at a table in the middle of a pile of rubbles, in a dark and desolated place.

Dazed, he watched Cuddy turn her back on him and walk away, holding Lucas's hand.

"No!" He cried after her, "Don't go. Cuddy, you're the love of my life! You _can__'__t_ go. NO!"

...

"Hey!" a soft voice whispered close to his ear.

He turned to the side and he saw _her_. He was panting and his heart was racing in his chest; and that's when he realized he was lying in her bed beside her.

"Are you ok?" Cuddy asked gently.

He blinked a few times to adjust to the obscurity in the room and tried to catch his breath, while he allowed his mind to process reality again.

Yes, she was here. With him. Cuddy was here. Everything was fine. It was just a bad dream. Jesus, he hated that and how stupidly fucked-up his mind could be sometimes!

He exhaled slowly and looked at her. She was smiling at him.

"What?" he groaned, recovering his poise a little.

"You woke me up." She said reproachfully, but her eyes were glittering with mischief.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled unapologetically, "I'll try not to do that again."

"What was it that you were dreaming about?" she asked, curious.

"Nothing." He dismissed her.

"Oh come on, tell me."

"No. Go back to sleep."

"I can't. You woke me up, remember?"

"So what? You wanna play scrabble now?"

She rolled her eyes and came closer to him, snuggling up in his arms. He pretended to be unmoved, stoically lying still while she rubbed her half-naked body against his under the sheets.

"You were talking in your sleep." She purred, with a smile.

"Sorry, I'll tell my subconscious to dream in mute next time if it can help."

She superbly ignored his grumpy mood and kept smiling.

"That was… uh… interesting." She teased.

House's body imperceptibly stiffened alongside hers when he recalled what his dream was about.

"I'm not ma-" He stopped when he saw the genuinely intrigued look on her face.

"What? You're not what?" She asked eagerly.

He frowned and studied her face again.

"Ha! You don't know what I said. Actually, I'm pretty sure you didn't understand a word of it." He told her assertively, suddenly feeling plainly satisfied with himself.

His body relaxed next to hers and he shifted to the side a bit, closing his eyes, as he intended to make it clear he wanted to go back to sleep.

"That's where you're wrong," she insisted, coming closer to him again. "coz I perfectly heard what you said…"

He sighed and opened his eyes.

"Yeah? And what did you hear?"

"You said…" she shot him a coy smile, and buried her face in the crook of his neck, kissing him behind his ear, "_you're the love of my life_."

He puffed theatrically and shook his head no.

"Nuh-uh." He denied, "I sure didn't say that!"

"Yes, you did."

"Alright, fine. Let's say I _may_ have said that." He conceded, "What makes you think I was talking about you anyway?"

"Because, you also said my name." she added, with an undeniably victorious tone.

He sighed again, exaggeratedly loud.

"Jesus Christ woman!" he exclaimed, "It was a dream, ok? It was obviously delirious, and completely unfounded."

She giggled and propped herself up on one elbow.

"Aww, so I'm the love of your life?" she crooned.

"Pff, the most annoying pain in the ass of my life, sure!"

She laid a soft kiss on his chest and looked down at him tenderly.

"You know, that's logical if you think of it. Apart from your mother, I'm probably the woman you've known for the longest time in your life."

"_Known_, yes."

"And _loved_." she insisted.

He narrowed his eyes and smiled just a tiny bit provokingly at her, remaining stubbornly silent.

"Say it!" she commanded.

"Dream on!" he answered sassily, holding back a chuckle.

Her mouth dropped open and she smacked him on the arm before collapsing with all her weight on top of him.

"You're not going back to sleep until you've said it." she warned.

He groped her ass cheeks with both his hands and pressed her down to his hips.

"You might wanna work a little bit more on the dissuasive aspect of your threats," he said, staring at her totally unimpressed. "Coz not going back to sleep is the last of my concerns now."

He beamed widely at her and she laughed, leaning down to kiss him.

"Mama?" Rachel's sleepy voice called through the baby monitor.

Cuddy instantly froze in his arms and she turned her head towards the nightstand, all her mother's senses suddenly awaken. House rolled his eyes and puffed. That little minx, as always, had a perfect timing.

"Mamaaa?" the voice whined again, this time sounding slightly scared for not receiving an answer the first time.

Cuddy bit her lips and looked down at House before pushing herself away from him. She rolled on her back and stared briefly at the ceiling.

"I have to go see what she wants." she said

"Yeah." He sighed resignedly.

She sat up and slid to the edge of the bed. Before she could extract herself from the sheets, he grabbed her by the wrist and held her back.

"Cuddy?"

She turned around and looked at him, expectantly. He stared intensely at her but didn't say a word.

"What?" she said, growing impatient.

"I…" he started hesitantly.

She wore an ivory satin nightie with light green flowers printed on it. One of the shoulder straps had slid along her arm, and her silky skin shone in the pale light. Her messy, raven curls were framing her beautiful sleepy face. She looked tiny, and fragile, but so strong at the same time. And she was, most undoubtedly, the best thing that had ever happened in his whole life.

"Never mind." He said, letting go of her wrist.

She didn't insist and hastily got up, walking toward the door. When she opened it, he called her and she turned around again, still holding the doorknob in her hand.

"Just so you know, I'm taking you and Rachel to Romano's tomorrow."

"Huh?" she said, taken aback.

"The kid loves pasta and they serve the best greasy macaroni and cheese in town!"

"And it just crossed you mind, _now_?" she asked, with her mouth slightly opened in surprise.

"Yep! Now go check on the monkey and come back here quick. We're not finished yet!" He answered, waggling his eyebrows playfully and knowingly looking down at his groin.

She rolled her eyes and left the room.

A few moments later, he heard her soothe Rachel with a soft, reassuring voice through the baby monitor. He took a deep breath, and spread his arms widely to his sides, stretching his body on the mattress.

As he listened absent-mindedly to the mother-daughter's conversation that was going on in the room next door, a sensation of calm slowly pervaded him. Pain in his leg became a little less noticeable. His heart slowed down and a smile of bliss formed at the corner of his mouth, almost unconsciously…

* The End *

* * *

><p><strong><em>AN_**

_Voilà! In case you're still wondering, the sentence I had to include in the story was: "You're the love of my life."_

_I hope you liked the way the plot unravels, even though the moment House actually says said-sentence was only in his dream… Sorry to those who would've loved the proposal to be real, it's just that I can't seem to let myself wander in that territory, in the Huddy's fictional reality. So this is the closest I could get to it… ;P_

_Also, I know I have a lot of ongoing stories I should be working on right now, but as it turns out, my muse stubbornly focused on that one-shot and urged me to write it first. And I certainly don't want to risk pissing off my muse! Would you? _

_Thank you for reading and if you have a moment, I'll be, be sure of that, extremely touched to read your thoughts…_

_Enjoy life and Happy Holiday to you all ~ maya_


End file.
